Standing, hand in hand at the bridge. Not the bridge of their youth though. Seventy years had elapsed and she knew he had grown to be competitive, but he strived to be the best because he believed she deserved nothing less.
At a bridge much smaller than this they'd played pooh sticks in the pain-free days of their youth, and now, as their frail bodies cried for well-earned rest there was no fear. Neither would want to be left alone so they let go of the bridge but not of each other. Their final journey, as always, together.